Hostile Takeovers by Michael Black

Author:Michael Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

CHAPTER 18

All the Earmarks of a Suicide

The note was written in lavender ink on light green notepaper. A simple sentiment: Vincent, I’m sorry. I love you. Jonathan. Hart noticed some bubbling of the paper where something, probably tears, had fallen onto the surface. Leaving the note on the counter by the sink, Hart glanced back to the other uniformed officer, who had arrived at the trailer first. He barely looked old enough to shave, but was walking around with a swagger. A rookie’s swagger.

“Have you called for Investigations?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “They’re on the way. But I thought since the victim had one of your cards, I should get a hold of you too, since you were so close by in Robertsville.”

Hart nodded. “I appreciate it.” Glancing down the hallway of the trailer, she saw the legs, clad in light brown pants and penny loafers, stretching out from the bedroom area. She started to walk down the hallway, when the middle-aged man who’d been sitting at the small kitchen table crying suddenly looked up and asked, “Did you know Jonathan?” His voice cracked as he said the name. Hart went over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You must be Vincent Lloyd,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Lloyd said. He took out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tapped one out. His hand trembled as he lit it. A light blue tie with a flowery design was knotted loosely around his neck. Lloyd ran his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, which was thinning at the crown. “Why did he have your card?”

Hart took a step back to distance herself from the smoke. “I was the officer that arrested him Wednesday.” She glanced at the older man’s grief-stricken face. “We had occasion to talk and he mentioned you. He cared about you very much.”

Lloyd nodded as the tears began flowing from his eyes. He was sobbing so hard he could hardly manage the cigarette. “I used up all the savings we had in the bank to bond him out. So he wouldn’t get hurt in the jail. He promised me that he was going to stay home. That he wouldn’t go out. And now look what happened.”

The young cop snorted and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

“What time did you leave for work, Mr. Lloyd?” she asked.

“I left at eight thirty. I have to drive all the way to the mall at River Oaks.”

“And Jonathan was all right when you left him?”

“Yes. He promised me he wouldn’t go out. He seemed…scared.”

“Of what?”

Lloyd wrapped his bony fingers around his mouth and drew deeply on the cigarette before he answered. “He was worried about the drugs he’d lost. That the supplier would be angry.”

“Did he tell you who this supplier was?” Hart asked.

Lloyd took a deep breath before answering. “Yes. It was a man named Marcus. Marcus LeRigg.” He said the name in clipped tones, then turned his head upward to look at Hart. “They killed him, you know.

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